Menu

Helen’s world was shrink wrapped, the glass house he provided kept her well contained. “A safe haven”, he had promised at the altar.

What once felt manageable was now stifling. Her life had become so small that she could feel the glass above, beside and beneath her, not even a sharp edge to test herself against. The clear glass began to fog and she knew the last of the outside world was disappearing. Once her despair was complete no sledge hammer could free her.

Today she would look for an ice pick.

Join us at Friday Fictioneers where Rochelle will give 100 words to break through.

http://www.mybajakitchen.com is my new food blog. I want to showcase my interpretation of Baja cuisine while exploring expat life in Mexico. There might be a cookbook in the think tank. Thanks for asking.

Super-duper COOL, Tracey! I SO want to tackle some of those recipes. The southwest is on my bucket list of places to visit (which I did in 1975, 1982, 2003). It’s time to go back. You live in Baja, California?

Thank you. I actually hadn’t written it with ice in mind but that is a great metaphor. I was using ice pick as a small tool to begin chipping though the glass. I like your interpretation better.
Thanks for stopping by,
Tracey

i notice as we get older, the space we can roam around becomes more constricted. i saw it on my dad. before he died, he was consigned to a room on the first floor. he wasn’t even permitted to climb upstairs.

Follow Blog via Email

I'm a writer and a physician. I write about food and travel at MyBajaKitchen.com. I write fiction and medical narrative at TraceyDelaplainMD.com. You'll always find me near the water in Baja Mexico or Northern Nevada.